


Lost and Found (The Quartet Remix)

by destroythemeek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destroythemeek/pseuds/destroythemeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott McCall, losing and finding the two people he loves most.  Four variations on a theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Found (The Quartet Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolfling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Comfort Given is Comfort Granted](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1484350) by [Wolfling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfling/pseuds/Wolfling). 



The door opened, and Scott sat up in bed. A gray wave of dizziness hit him, clouding his vision at the edges, but when the world in front of his eyes stopped undulating and he saw it was Stiles, he allowed himself to smile.

"Hey," he said. "I didn't think I'd see you today."

Stiles offered up a wry half-grin. "Turns out no matter how sleep-deprived I am, there's only so much sleep I can handle at one time." He crossed the room and sat next to Scott on his bed. "I got your message."

Scott grimaced. Stiles had only been free of the Nogitsune for a day. The grief that had reddened Scott’s eyes was clouding his judgment, making him leave desperate voicemail messages on his best friend’s phone when that best friend had much more important things to deal with. "Sorry about that," he said. "I wasn't thinking…you deserve a day at least to just…be. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Yeah, you should have," Stiles said. "You should always bother me. You're my best friend. That comes with all-inclusive bothering privileges. Actually it's more like bothering responsibilities because when you need to bother someone I expect that someone to be me--"

Scott listened to Stiles ramble and took in his whole frame, his messy hair and gesticulating arms and warm breath, marveling at the fact that Stiles was here, sitting next to him, not possessed or dead or any of the other awful things that had seemed so inevitable and permanent only days earlier. “What?” Stiles asked, stopping his babbling abruptly.

"Nothing," Scott said, ducking his head. "It's just... it's good to have you back."

Stiles nudged Scott's shoulder with his own. "It's good to be back," he said.

Scott returned the shoulder nudge. The contact felt good, and solid, but with it came a new jolt of pain at the realization that he’d never again have this kind of contact with Allison. He’d never brush his shoulder against hers, never share his warmth with her on cold days, never feel the strength of the muscles in her archery-toned arms. The presence of one person he loved was a painful reminder of the absence of another, no matter how unfair the comparison was.

After several long seconds of quiet, Scott finally spoke. "It still doesn't seem real. That she's..."

"I know.”

Scott glanced over at Stiles, not sure how to voice his question. "Was... was it like that when your mom died?"

"Yeah," Stiles replied, his voice hoarse and hesitant. Scott immediately regretted asking, but Stiles continued. "For a long time. I even... I'd almost forget and find myself thinking stuff, like, I needed to get my homework done early so we could go to the hospital after dinner to visit…and then I'd remember."

Scott nodded at that. "It's like I keep getting ambushed by the reality. My mind drifts and then I think ' _Allison's dead_ ' and everything just..." He couldn’t figure out how to end the sentence, how to describe the enormity of the grief that had fallen over him like a dark veil. Allison had been the strongest of all of them. She’d been entirely human, but her death still felt impossible.

"I know." Stiles slung an arm over Scott's shoulders, and Scott latched on to the gesture of physical comfort, throwing his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him forward until his face was buried in Stiles’ neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Scott knew he was crossing a line, knew he was blurring the soft edges of their friendship and turning it into something else, but that didn’t stop his Alpha eyes from glowing red. He breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in Stiles’ unmistakable scent, and tried to imagine what it would be like to never smell it again. How soon would it be before he forgot what Allison had smelled like?

"Sorry," Scott said, when he finally pulled back, his eyes fading back into human and a brief wave of shame washing over him. "That was...."

Stiles waved his hand in the air, dismissing the apology. "Dude, I'd let you do a lot more than sniff me if it helps."

Scott didn’t know what “a lot more” would entail. He didn’t think he could ask. Not yet.

"Just having you here helps," Scott said instead. "I mean, nothing makes it hurt less, but having you here reminds me it could've hurt _worse_."

~*~

The door opened, and Scott sat up in bed. A gray wave of dizziness hit him, clouding his vision at the edges, but when the world in front of his eyes stopped undulating and he saw it was Allison, he allowed himself to smile.

"Hey," he said. "I didn't think I'd see you today."

Allison put a hand to her stomach, where the bulk of the bandages could be seen under her filmy shirt. “Deaton’s concoctions are making me heal way faster than the hospital expected.” She crossed the room and sat next to Scott on his bed. "Besides, I got your message."

Scott grimaced. He shouldn’t have called Allison at all. The grief that had reddened Scott’s eyes was clouding his judgment, making him leave desperate voicemail messages on his ex-girlfriend’s phone when that ex-girlfriend should be focusing on her recovery. "Sorry about that," he said. "I wasn't thinking…I mean, we’re not even…I shouldn't have bothered you."

“It’s fine, Scott. I was getting sick of lying around uselessly. All I could do was catch up on homework. And I don’t even have any econ to do – it turns out Coach Finstock is pretty sympathetic to people who have been impaled.” She smiled wryly at her own joke, but then her face softened. “This isn’t about me and you. This is about Stiles. I miss him too.”

Scott turned away from Allison, pressing his face into his pillow. He could still see the chain of events clearly in his mind: holding Allison in his arms, staunching her bleeding, as she told him that silver could kill the Oni. And then Mrs. Yukimura, when they were all distracted by the battle that ensued, taking it upon herself to kill the Nogitsune – and with it, Stiles.

Kira had apologized, after. Scott had made it clear that he didn’t blame her for her mother’s actions. But whatever they might have had, it was done now.

Allison reached over and took Scott’s hand in her own, squeezing until he sat up again. Her hand was soft and rough all at once, calloused only in the places a bowstring touched. Scott squeezed back, marveling at her existence, at the fact that she was here, alive, when it had seemed just days before that she might not make it through the night. But her touch reminded him of another touch he’d never feel again, a set of longer, less-calloused fingers that Scott had held so many times over so many years, through family traumas and late night sleepovers and other, less remarkable times, when touch had simply felt right.

After several long seconds of quiet, Scott finally spoke. "I just don’t know how to deal. I can’t imagine life without him.”

"I know.”

Scott glanced over at Allison, not sure how to voice his question. "Did…did you feel like that when your mom died?"

Allison’s face turned stony. “You know what I was like when my mom died. I can’t see you turn into that, Scott. I won’t let you.” She reached out with her other hand and pressed it against his chest. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. Don’t let your grief turn you into something you aren’t.” 

“I won’t,” Scott promised. “I just…I can’t believe he’s gone. It doesn’t feel real.” Scott still half-expected the door to burst open again with Stiles behind it, a ball of uncoordinated energy, full of new plans and new ideas, new ill-advised adventures for them to have.

Allison gave up on her small touches, then, and enveloped Scott in a full hug, pulling his head down to rest on her chest. She didn’t say a word, and Scott was glad. What words could help? Instead, Scott breathed in her scent, reveled in the comfort of her arms. Then he pulled back, looked her in the eyes, and kissed her.

Allison pulled away after a second, before the kiss could go further than a gentle press of closed lips. Scott started to panic. “I’m sorry, I’m a mess, I didn’t mean—“ He didn’t know how to continue, how to explain that at the same time he was kissing her, he was also kissing someone else, someone he’d never gotten the chance to kiss. Someone he’d never even lay eyes on, ever again.

Allison held Scott firmly by the shoulders and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I understand,” she said, and Scott knew that she really did. She’d understood him from their first meeting, the electricity of connection passing through a pen. “I know things are weird between us, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to help.”

"Just having you here helps," Scott admitted. "I mean, nothing makes it hurt less, but having you here reminds me it could've hurt _worse_."

~*~

The door opened, and Scott sat up in bed. A gray wave of dizziness hit him, clouding his vision at the edges. When the world in front of his eyes stopped undulating, he saw that it was Derek. Neither of them smiled.

“How did you get in here?” Scott asked.

“Your mom let me up. She’s worried about you,” Derek said. His face, as usual, betrayed nothing more than vague disapproval at the world around him.

Scott lay back down on his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “And she thinks you’re going to fix me? You?”

Scott’s eyes were closed, but his werewolf hearing was still sharp, and he could hear Derek crossing the room and sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. “You can’t hide from this.”

Scott barked a laugh. “Isn’t that what you did? When your family died?” Scott didn’t have the energy to feel bad about the low blow.

“I’m obviously not the model you should follow.” Scott didn’t have to see him to know Derek was rolling his eyes. “They wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

This time Scott sat up, grudgingly, his muscles protesting after several days of disuse. “Who cares what they’d want? They’re dead. The only two people I’ve ever loved are dead, Derek.”

It was something he’d been repeating to himself over and over for the past week, as he lay in his bed, not showering, not changing his clothes, not going to school or talking to anyone. Stiles and Allison were dead. His best friend and his ex-girlfriend. Two people who would never know the depth of his feelings for them.

Yet despite his reminders, he still couldn’t fully believe that they were gone. He still couldn’t imagine walking into school and seeing their desks empty. He couldn’t picture the Sheriff and Mr. Argent walking around town aimlessly, as defeated and heartbroken as he himself was. Because if he could imagine those things, if their absence was real and permanent, what was the point of anything?

The darkness that had enveloped his heart after their sacrifice to the Nemeton had grown darker still, taking over more and more of his thoughts and feelings, his dreams and nightmares. Scott wondered if he was carrying Stiles’ and Allison’s burdens now, too. If he was, he knew he deserved it.

Derek didn’t respond with words. Instead, he reached out and slapped Scott, the flat of his hand hitting his right cheekbone. 

“Fuck you,” Scott said flatly. He didn’t even touch his cheek.

“Get up,” Derek said. “You’re going to shift, and you’re going to run, and you’re going to feel some pain.”

Scott growled. His eyes reddened. “No.” No, Scott didn’t need to be a wolf. He didn’t need to be slapped, or clawed, or thrown across a room. The touches he craved were gentler, softer. The touches of two people whose hands and faces, voices and scents, were already starting to fade from his memory.

“Look in the mirror, Scott! You’re an _Alpha_. You have responsibilities.”

“I don’t even have a pack!” Scott yelled back, his mouth full of fangs. “Isaac’s going away. And you need to go away, too.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Derek growled. His face had also shifted, the transformation drawn out by Scott’s.

“You’re not helping,” Scott said, crossing his arms and letting his face fall human again. “You of all people should know. Nothing is going to make this hurt less.”

~*~

The door opened, and Scott sat up in bed. He’d been reading, catching up on the homework that had fallen by the wayside in the midst of the Nogitsune and Oni attacks. But when he turned from his book to the open door and he saw it was Stiles and Allison, he smiled with the warmth of the sun.

“Hey there, wolf boy,” Stiles said, bounding across the room and hopping onto Scott’s bed like a particularly gangly jackrabbit. Allison followed more gracefully and took her place on Scott’s other side.

“Hey,” Scott said. “I didn’t expect to see you guys. Shouldn’t you be resting?” They were both alive and whole, but the recent battles had taken their toll; Scott could feel the differences in the space between their bodies. Stiles’ body temperature was still below normal, and Allison’s breathing was still irregular with residual pain.

“We wanted to check in on you,” Allison explained. “You spend too much time worrying about other people.” She smiled kindly, and Scott could feel himself blushing. Since he and Kira had decided to just be friends, his feelings toward Allison had been ramping up all over again, without guilt.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, wrapping one arm around Scott in a side-hug. “What kind of friends would we be if we let some pesky demonic possession and near-fatal injury keep us away?”

Scott let his head fall on Stiles’ shoulder briefly before pulling away. He couldn’t tell if he was just imagining it, but Stiles’ skin seemed to grow the tiniest bit warmer. Scott wondered, not for the first time, if Stiles would let him touch him more deliberately, transfer more of his warmth. The thought didn’t make him feel any more guilty than it had with Allison.

They were here. Despite all odds, these two strong, beautiful people were here, sitting on his bed, laughing and smiling. He had never felt more grateful.

Scott took Stiles and Allison each by the hand, linking them together in a chain and discreetly sapping away some of their remaining pain. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said. He couldn’t even imagine the possibility.


End file.
